


Close Your Eyes

by AkelaKela



Series: Liam Dunbar [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Brett and Lori, Brett and Lori deserved better, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt Liam Dunbar, Hurt No Comfort, I.E.D, Intermittent Explosive Disorder, Liam Dunbar protection squad, Liam fell in a hole, Liam has issues, Liam needs a hug, Liam trying to deal, Liam-centric, Lori is a precious smol, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scott trying to help, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, be warned, kind of self harm, ptsd maybe, read the tags, very sad and angsty fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 18:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16351715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkelaKela/pseuds/AkelaKela
Summary: 'Close your eyes.' He heard her whisper before he plunged over the edge, giving himself to the demons of rage and destruction lunging upwards from the depths of his grief. They caught his body in their savage jaws, tearing him to shreds. He couldn't distinguish the physical from emotional pain anymore. His throat was hoarse and cracked, his chest tight, his palms and face stinging.





	Close Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> How I imagined Liam dealing with Brett and Lori's deaths.

Liam sank to the ground, the world whiting out around him. The voices were muffled, garbled yet bizarrely loud in his ears. He closed his eyes, covering his face with his hands. Nothing could block the world out. Nothing could make it stop. He dug his claws deep into the flesh of his palms until he could smell the blood seeping from the punctured skin, its foul scent of guilt and fear filling his nose and mouth.

He could distantly hear someone picking their way through the woods behind him, a familiar voice calling out to him. Liam wiped his mouth with his slimy hands, sloppily smearing his own blood over his face and clambered to his feet. Shakily, he staggered away, tripping through the tangled vegetation choking the ground. His heart pounded, filling his ears with its staccato rhythm. The darkness was a monster, its gaping mouth yawning wide, ready to swallow him whole.

Liam felt himself teetering on the brink, his toes scrabbling, fighting for purchase on the treacherous precipice of complete breakdown. Lori's tearful voice echoed in his mind, her last words playing on repeat like a broken record. _'I couldn't take away his pain.'_ She said again and again, her hands grasping Brett's one last time before her heart was silenced to match his.  

 _'Close your eyes.'_  He heard her whisper before he plunged over the edge, giving himself to the demons of rage and destruction lunging upwards from the depths of his grief. They caught his body in their savage jaws, tearing him to shreds. He couldn't distinguish the physical from emotional pain anymore. His throat was hoarse and cracked, his chest tight, his palms and face stinging. 

 _'Close your eyes.'_ She sobbed, dropping her head to her brother's lifeless body and Liam tripped, his foot catching on a gnarled root and was thrown forward. He expected to slam into the ground, steeling himself for it, but he tumbled headlong, crashing through branches and into a large hole. Liam's shoulder hit the ground first, bone snapping on impact. He lay there for a while, gripping his injured shoulder. The full moon shone down upon him, bathing him in its smooth, silver light. Images flashed before his eyes, juxtaposed over the moon's gaze burning into his eyes. Lori's smiling eyes searching for Brett on the lacrosse field from the bleachers during a game, cheering him on. She had never missed a game for as long as he could remember.  _'He started playing lacrosse for me.'_ She'd said. Brett's cocky, devil-may-care attitude had always managed to get under his skin, but the few moments he'd dropped the act were moments Liam could never forget.

 _'Do you know how lucky you are?'_ He'd said that day in the locker room when Liam was wallowing in self pity. Brett had always been like that, sappy and soft under his rough, rude exterior.

He'd envied Brett's relationship with his sister, their parent's death having cemented their bond beyond anything he could ever imagine. Liam was the one with the deadbeat father who'd gotten himself killed one fine day, the one who had to try and pretend that he was fine with a stepdad. He was the one with the short fuse, the one easy to toy with, the 'troubled kid'. He'd even hated Brett for the superhuman control he had on his emotions. Liam endured hours of therapy and doped himself up to try to achieve something Brett seemed to be born with.

But it hadn't been hate that he'd felt on the day of the game he had to play against Devenford Prep. He could barely remember what he'd done, barely remembered the sound of the keys scraping through the blue paint of the car or the sound of the metal denting when he kicked it. What he could remember was the feeling of the flakes of paint stuck to his sweaty hands, the ache in his heels and the horror that almost stopped his heart when he saw what he'd done. His parents had looked at him as though they didn't know who he was. He didn't know who he was anymore. Liam had thought that things couldn't get worse then, that he'd hit rock bottom.

But they could and had. Cars could be fixed, paid for. Schools could be changed, sins forgiven. 

But what he'd done couldn't be fixed. Nothing could save the people he'd exposed. Nothing could save Scott and Stiles and Malia and Lydia and Corey when their friends turned against them, when the hunters overran Beacon Hills. They'd drop like flies, be picked off one by one. The bloodstained license plate of the jeep that had slammed into Brett and Lori ghosted across his vision, its outline flashing before him again and again. 

"Liam? Liam are you okay?" Scott's voice echoed, reverberating off the walls of the hole stretching up above him. Liam stared blankly up at him for a few moments before getting to his feet. Every movement seemed to take enormous effort, his every cell protesting the slightest effort he made.

"Can you come up?" Scott asked more quietly and Liam steeled himself before lifting his right arm and cracking the broken bones of his shoulder back into place. He climbed, the dust filtering into his eyes until he closed them, picking his way up until he felt Scott's hand in his, pulling him over the edge and onto solid ground. 

"You're okay Liam. You're okay." He breathed, pulling into a hug. Liam stood there dumbly, his arms hanging by his sides and Scott clasped him close. The words felt like a lie this time. He wasn't okay, he couldn't ever imagine being okay ever again.

His tears had cut sharp white trails through the blood smeared over his mouth and cheeks and his hands were caked in blood and dirt. Scott laid an arm over his shoulders and tugged him away, out of the forest.

-

 He woke, drenched in sweat and mid-scream in the middle of the night. Bodies, silhouetted in the harsh glare of headlights, the screech of tyres and the sickening sound of metal slamming into flesh and bone filled his head. Showering usually worked, the hot water coursing over his body usually calmed him. He cranked the heat all the way up, the water scorching the kin of his back.

 _'I couldn't take away his pain.'_ She'd whispered in dismay as the blackness died from the veins of her hands and Liam fell to his knees, his head buried in his hands, his teeth stabbing into his gums as they became fangs. A roar ripped itself free of his chest and he raked his claws down across his cheeks, sharp, stabbing pain piercing his bones. He dug deep into his flesh, screams tearing themselves free from his chest. The blood dripped down, mixing with the boiling water on the floor, each drop spouting pink tentacles threading through the water. Sobs wracked his body and he covered his ears, willing the sounds in his head to cease. They played repeatedly, insistently, a sickening melody of carnage and desolation. Because Brett had died in pain. Brett with his whole life ahead of him. Brett who had lost everything. Brett who shouldn’t have lost anymore. Brett who didn’t deserve it.

He lay there until long after the water pouring over him turned ice cold and numbed him to the bone. He couldn't remember dragging his shivering body out of the bathroom, but when he stepped through the door the next morning the mirror lay strewn in bloodstained shards across the floor. He picked up the pieces of glass, dropping them onto a discarded newspaper slowly, sometimes running his fingers over the jagged edges of the glass. He could see himself in them, his reflection broken and fragmented, scattered in bits and pieces over the cold bathroom tiles. He stared back at himself for a time, strangely alienated from the pair of eyes looking back at him.

Scott dragged him out of bed that morning, knowing exactly what to say to him as usual. ' _You don't know how it feels'_ , he might have said, but he knew that wasn't true. Scott rarely mentioned Allison, a painful and somewhat reverent look crossing his face when he did. Her grave, not far from Aiden's was well kept, their headstones cryptic clues to who they may have been.

The looks were bad enough, but the whispers in his ears were almost more than he could bear. They rose, multiplying in his ears to a crescendo. He caught every accusing glance, repeating his mantra in his head over and over. 

Gabe and Nolan tossed him to the ground, sending desks and chairs skidding across the floor of the empty classroom. He could feel the animal within him surfacing, his claws cutting into his clenched palms, fangs scraping his gums as the bloody bumper of the truck flashed through his mind. Nolan's foot slammed into him from behind. He'd expected it but found himself losing control anyway.

"What are you trying to hide Liam? Your eyes?" Gabe sneered.

_'Close your eyes.'_

Liam heard her choke out before Gabe slammed him up against the chalkboard, his breath hot and heavy on his face.

"Open your eyes." He spat. Marshalling every scrap of self control he had, Liam did, terrified that they would be shine bright yellow. The disappointment on Gabe's face assured him that they were blue-green. He was shaking with the effort of keeping his wolf at bay. It growled and snapped, lunging forward, tugging at the chains he'd shackled it in. He could feel the links of the chains weakening, the savage beast within him gaining ground before Nolan broke his nose. The pain radiating from his nose wrapped around his face and he wiped at the blood dripping from it. 

"Hey, let him go!" Mason yelled, pushing through the crowd of onlookers. Liam watched as he was held back by them.

"Are you just going to let us do this to you?" Liam stared back at Nolan mutely because he had to. Because he wanted to. He wanted to feel the punches and kicks, bruising his body because it was easier than feeling the pain cracking his heart in two. 

Gabe punched him again and Nolan cupped his head in his hands. "You know you can take us." And he was right. But Liam wouldn't.

"The sun." He breathed, Brett's and Lori's yellow eyes burning into his. "The sun. The moon. The truth." He said, staring Gabe in the face before he hit him again. And again. And again. He could hear his ribs cracking and healing, blood and saliva coating his face. He groaned, battling the wolf down

"You're fighting it. But you can't hold back forever." Nolan observed and Liam wanted to scream _'congratulations, Captain Obvious, you're a fucking idiot'_ and he might have if he wasn't in danger of committing mass murder.

"Do something!" Mason begged Mrs. Finch.

"Sometimes...sometimes it's best to let them work thing out on their own." She said, stepping back and Liam knew exactly where he stood. Even she was willing to throw him to the mob.

Gabe grabbed his shaggy forelock, yanking his head up by his hair and he gasped pathetically, his gaze locking with Mason's before a knee smashed into his nose, shattering it for the third time. He bit down hard on his tongue and cheek, feeling his teeth pierce his flesh and blood filled his mouth.The blows rained down on him, his ribs, head and back erupting in pain almost simultaneously. The whispers and giggles of the small crowd watching him were almost white noise, Mason's yells dimming in his ears. Then he was on his back, spitting up the blood choking him and gasping for breath.

"What the hell is going on?! Back off!" Coach dragged Gabe and Nolan off. Liam had never been so relieved to see Coach's unruly hair and wild eyes in his life. 

"Get out! All of you! I can't stand to look at your faces!" The crowd disperses and Liam cups his cracked ribs gently, the sweet, sweet air filing his lungs burning them. He can feel the broken bones and bruised flesh knitting together slowly, but it hurts more than anything he's ever felt in his life. He closes his eyes, groaning and shuddering as his ribs painstakingly begin to heal.

Corey and Mason lift him from the floor and begin to cry out, coughing instead when pressure is put on his burning chest.

"I can't believe you did that." Liam can hear the awe in Mason's voice.

"Yeah, Clarke Kent right?" He scoffs even though he's never wanted more to be Steve Rogers.

"Yeah, Clarke Kent." Liam's heard before that humans crave physical contact, especially in times of sadness and he must be more human than he thought because resting his head on Mason's shoulder suddenly feels like the best feeling in the world.

 -

Theo blathers on about something triggering him and Liam wants to scream at him, call him the fucking psyco he is. He's sick of hearing it, that stupid word repeated by his therapist and in hushed conversations between his mom and stepdad while they tiptoe around him like he's a ticking time bomb, afraid of 'triggering' another outburst. The boiling rage is simmering within him, and like pressure cooker ready to blow its top, he can feel his muscles tensing and coiling for attack.

"They're up here!" Nolan yells, helpfully presenting himself as a target and Liam charges, tackling him over the edge.

He knows it's a hallucination, that he's probably well round the bend and on his way to Theo's crazy town, but Brett looks so real, his voice echoing in Liam's ears. It all comes crashing back down on him. 

He'd never wanted to hurt anyone but it was like something would snap, like a brittle rubber band in his head and he'd go ballistic. It wasn't long before he was notorious for his short and explosive temper. He could remember the feeling of a nose breaking beneath his fist, the ache in his hands from clenching them in fists for hours and the fit he'd pitched when he'd been diagnosed.

An IED. The irony was almost laughable.

He can feel the lacrosse balls striking him, hear Brett's taunts and his teammates cheers.

Then Nolan stands before him, crossbow in hand, whining about how he'll die if he doesn't kill Liam and Liam honestly cannot care less. Brett's eyes, Lori's voice, the humiliation of the beating, the pain of chaining his wolf rush through his mind and he roars, daring him to pull the trigger. Nolan hesitates, the stench of fear and self-pity taints Liam's nostrils and he charges, knocking the crossbow away and raising his fist to strike. He could kill Nolan right now. He should. He would be saving hundreds, maybe even thousands of lives. 

But he can't. He can see his parent's faces. Scott's face. Mason's face. And he knows that it would prove Monroe right, painting Nolan as a martyr and his pack the demon that slayed him.

And he slams his fist into the stone instead, concentrating on the pain instead of the rage, the sound of his knuckles breaking and Nolan snivelling filling his ears before something hits him in the head and everything goes black.

 -

He visits their graves after the funeral. The suit is hot and stuffy and he peels off the jacket as he stares down at the two freshly turned patches of earth.

He's a werewolf with superhuman strength, but nothing has ever felt heavier than the coffin he'd lent a shoulder to. And he doesn't think anything ever will. The service was full of pithy, feel-good comments about the siblings 'untimely deaths' and how much they'd be missed and how unfortunate the accident had been. Liam endured it all numbly, avoiding the searching, wary glances of Brett's teammates. They seemed to far away, people he'd known in another time, another life. Scott was there, honouring his alliance with Satomi's pack and as moral support for Liam. He looked to Liam when someone asked if anyone else had a eulogy, but Liam's closed eyes were filled with angry tears and his fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. He didn't speak, because all he could think of were the faces of the hunters surrounding the two bodies lying in the glare of the headlights. _'It wasn't an accident. They murdered them!'_ Something screamed over and over in his mind.

Whoever was left of Satomi's pack were there, solemnly and silently bidding their farewells to their fallen members. The burial passed in a blur and Liam sent Scott home, the words to describe the emotions coursing through him escaping him. He dropped the coat to the ground by his feet and stepped forward, placing a hand on the soil of the graves. The stones weighed heavily in the pockets of his discarded jacket and he dug them out, balancing them meticulously in order of size, one pile below each headstone. The rocks Brett had stacked down in the tunnels, hands shaking. So sure that he would be found. The rocks Lori had found. So sure she would find her brother.

The towers looked forlorn, dwarfed in the shade of the headstones rising above them. 

 "I'm sorry." And that was all he could say. It was as useless as it sounded and when Liam rose, draping his jacket over his arm and giving his friends one last glance with a heavy heart before walking away, he knew that nothing would ever be the same again.


End file.
